


The Just-Teens League

by itsasuperherothing



Series: DC High School AU [1]
Category: Justice League, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Boys Being Boys, Boys Kissing, But mostly angst, Child Abuse, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Girls Kissing, Green Lanterns, High SchoolAU, Kissing, M/M, Mostly F/M kissing, No Sex, Plot Bunnies - Freeform, Smoking, Underage Substance Use, all over the place, cause it's high school, not at all gen, soooo many relationships, speedsters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3070577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsasuperherothing/pseuds/itsasuperherothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Clark Kent,” he says, turning to Bruce and sticking out his hand.  His voice was overly-friendly and his smile was a bit too wide and genuine for Bruce’s liking.<br/>“Bruce,” he says simply, staring back at his hand and not moving.</p>
<p>~ or the one where everyone is in high school, and it's a mess, because if it wasn't a mess it wouldn't be high school~</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Just-Teens League

**Author's Note:**

> cross posted on FF.net.

The light, sweet aroma of pancakes has already purged the Manor, and it’s barely 6AM. Bruce wrinkles his nose as he walks into the kitchen, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes.  
“I was just going to wake you up, sir.” Alfred says, spotting his tired figure in the doorway. “You don’t want to be late for your new school.”  
Bruce grumbles. Alfred is a great butler, though a bit obsessed with punctuality. Going to a new school wasn’t even that big of a deal anyway; he had probably gone to every private/boarding school in the tri-state area, and somehow not a single one had an adequate amount of classes. It was ridiculous- one had technology, another had criminology, another had business and IT, but Bruce refused to go to a school that didn’t have all of them for junior year. He was getting closer to college, and he needed to be ready. Ironically enough, the answer was about twenty minutes away from his own home- Gotham Heights High School. He at first cringed at the fact that it’s a public school, but then forced himself to look at the electives list- it was perfect.  
Alfred flips a few more pancakes before informing him that they were almost ready.  
“Not hungry,” Bruce mutters, but tacked on a low, “Thanks anyways.”  
Alfred gives him a warning look. “Master Bruce, you have to keep up your energy. This is not up for debate.”  
He sighs and accepts the plate his butler is handing him, sliding into a stool near the kitchen counter. There’s honestly not point in arguing- he’s danced that tango before, and every time he ends up slipping. He picks at the stack with his fork. “Couldn’t you make something… I dunno, more healthy for breakfast?”  
“Like?” Alfred asks.  
Bruce shrugs. “Um… fruit?”  
“By technicality, sir, you can’t ‘make’ fruit.”  
He rolls his eyes. “Prepare, then.” Shoveling down a few bites, Bruce jumped off the stool. “Gotta go get dressed,” he explains in mid run, leaving most of his breakfast in his wake.  
The Manor was extensive- it included dozens of bedrooms, a game room, a theater, an indoor pool, and outdoor pool, a foyer, a music room, a sitting room, a living room, a computer room, a dining table, a vast kitchen, a butler’s pantry, and more. His favorite room by far though has to be the training room, because he spends the most time there.  
Bruce reaches his room and opens his closet, skimming for something acceptable to wear. Every school he’s ever gone to required a uniform. Apparently, public schools didn’t. He sighed and pulled out his most inexpensive outfit- an old, sharp black blazer, a light blue shirt, and a silk navy tie. He dressed and cleaned quickly, and made his way downstairs.  
Alfred gives him a once over as he descends the stairs, and Bruce raises his eyebrow. “What?”  
“Master Bruce, I believe children your age don’t wear Armani suits to school.”  
Bruce cranes his head behind his shoulder and shrugs it off a bit just to confirm the brand- he was right. He fixes it back on and gets to the bottom of the staircase, grabbing the limo keys and tossing it to Alfred. “I’m not the typical 16 year old if you haven’t noticed.”  
Alfred sighs but gives him no further grief. “Let’s go then.” Bruce says.  
The ride is fairly quick and problemless, just until they roll up to the front of the crowded school.  
Bruce gives Alfred a hard stare. “I don’t think it’s safe.”  
Alfred chuckles, and Bruce turns a bit red. “You were the one who insisted transfer sir. I assure you, you are in no danger.”  
Bruce turns his gaze to the window- everyone looks more daunting with less rules. People lank around and wear piercings and have dyed hair and one guy even has a big crocodile tattooed to his already crocodilian looking skin. “I’m not so sure about this.”  
Alfred unlocks the car doors, thinking. Talking the teen into something could take hours, and he only had about 15 minutes until the late bell rung. “It’s alright to be scared.”  
He immediately clutches the door handle. “I’m not afraid of anything.” he says stubbornly. Attempting to prove his point, he pulls the door open, slinging his plain, black backpack over his shoulder and climbs out. Alfred bids him farewell a bit too smugly, and Bruce wonders exactly how badly he’s been duped.  
He pivots and walks up to the big double doors, being sure to avoid any and all human contact. The entrance is somewhat daunting, but Bruce trudges through it anyway. 

~ o ~ o ~

“Um… Excuse me?” Bruce asks quietly after a few moments. He’s decided to be nice- for now.  
The woman at the front desk looks up, startled. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. Did you need something?”  
He nodded. “I’m new here. I was told in the letter to wait here for-” he pauses, restraining his rolling eyes. “-a buddy?”  
“Oh, Bruce Wayne, right? You’re a bit early,” she says, brushing back her cropped black hair, reaching just to the middle of her chin and getting shorter towards the back. “I’m Ms. Bordeaux, the secretary. Feel free to take a seat while you’re waiting.”  
“Thank you.” he says, moving to the side but not sitting. Bruce always prefered standing over sitting.  
A few minutes later, a boy about his age, with big, thick black glasses and a notepad in his chest pocket huffs in. Bruce would think him to be a nerd if not for the fact that he’s tall, and oddly, ridiculously bulkily ripped. “Am I late?” he asks.  
Ms. Bordeaux shakes her head. “You’re right on time. He was early.”  
“Clark Kent,” he says, turning to Bruce and sticking out his hand. His voice was overly-friendly and his smile was a bit too wide and genuine for Bruce’s liking.  
“Bruce,” he says simply, staring back at his hand and not moving.  
Clark gets the hint and awkwardly puts his hand back to his side. “Uh… Could I see your schedule?”  
He nodded and took the neatly folded paper out of his pocket, handing it to Clark.  
“Whoa… I didn’t even know you could take this many courses…” he says in awe.  
Bruce shrugs. “I like the extra work.”  
Clark gives him a weird look but continues scanning the list. “We have first period AP English and last period gym together. I’ll show you to all your other classes, and you can just wait for me outside of each afterwards.”  
Bruce grunts but forces a thanks. He really would prefer not spending his first day as tag along, but it’s probably better than getting lost and actually having to ask someone random in the halls for help.  
“So what brings you to Gotham Heights in the middle of October?” Clark asks casually, beckoning them out of the office.  
“They’ve got the best course selection in the tri-state to suit my personal needs.” Bruce answers.  
“We don’t really get a lot of new kids in our grade. In fact, I don’t think we’ve had any in high school. Lois will be interested.” Clark tells him.  
Bruce takes on an aloof tone. “Lois?”  
By the wry, large smile and the moony eyes that grew on his face, Bruce can immediately tell that he fell for her hard. “A friend of mine. My journalism partner.” He said, puffing out his chest a bit, and for the second time that morning Bruce had to restrain rolling his eyes.  
Clark directs him through the hall traffic in an expertise manner that Bruce is mildly impressed with. “Luckily, the locker next to mine is open, so you can take that one. No one uses their lockers very much anyway.” he says, showing him to the side of the hall.  
“Any idea what I’ll need?” Bruce asks, dialing in a combination and setting it so he could use it.  
“For English? Two composition notebooks, a few folders, a binder, and a red pen.” Clark answers, sifting through his own locker.  
“All that for one class?” He says in disbelief.  
Clark nods seriously. “You don’t know Mr. Hawkins.”  
“I suppose not.” Bruce murmurs, gathering some materials. Suddenly as he looks up, with a blast of wind that makes him automatically reach for his hair, a boy skids to a stop in front of Clark. As Bruce sends him a glare, the first thing he notices is the fact that the guy’s wearing a red varsity jacket and a bright yellow shirt that just cries for attention.  
He smiles proudly. “Hiya Clark!”  
Clark sighs. “You two are racing? Again?”  
Varsity Jacket nods heartily. “Ever since he joined ROTC, he’s been convinced he can run faster than me.”  
“He does realize you won the junior olympics last year in track and field, right?” Clark says, shutting his locker.  
Varsity Jacket shrugs and raps on his own head. “I think it’s too empty up there for him to process it. Or maybe he’s just too arrogant that he can’t see straight.”  
The missing participant of the race finally catches up, huffing and puffing with his hands on his knees. “I’ll... catch up to you.... one day Barry.”  
Varsity Jacket (Barry?) snorts. “Yeah, my dust maybe.”  
“These are my friends Barry Allen and Hal Jordan.” Clark introduces, remembering Bruce. “Guys, this is Bruce. He’s new, so try to behave yourselves.”  
“Hey dude, welcome to Gotham Heights,” Barry says with a toothy grin, ignoring Clark. His hair was poofant but neat, a stark blonde, shorter on the sides and taller in the front. Hal offers a sputter and a cough, and Barry thumps him on the back. “I apologize in advance for him.” Hal wears a beige fighter jacket and tan Timberlands, and a dark green shirt. His hair is brown and messier than Barry’s, but in a “purposefully tussled” kind of way.  
Clark slings on his backpack. “Walk with us.”  
Barry frowns. “I’ll be late to gym. I still need to change.”  
You’re always late anyway.” Hal says, recovering. Barry grimaces but does not deny. “So Bruce, what are you interested in?”  
He shrugs. “Doing well in school.”  
Hal raises an eyebrow but continues. “Any sports? Blue Boy Scout over here is J.V.’s star quarterback.”  
Clark reddens. “I quit Scouts l year ago.”  
“Precisely.” Barry says.  
Bruce glances at Clark with disdain before briefly answering, “I don’t engage in extra-curriculars.”  
“How come?” Clark asks, and Bruce shrugs.  
“I’m not really a team player.”  
“I do track, and it’s not really a team sport.” Barry contributes. “You might like it.”  
“I seriously doubt it.” Bruce says, finality in his voice.  
Hal waves them off. “There are a lot of other things. We’ve got a music department, an art department, the mathletes, stuff like that. A lot of hot babes, or guys if that’s what you’re interested-”  
“Please, stop talking Hal.” Barry interrupts, hiding his face in his hands.  
Hal sighs but complies. “He’s got girl problems.” He tells Bruce.  
“And he’s got a fear of emotional commitment that he atones with sexual activity.” Barry rebukes.  
Bruce glances at Clark. “Are they like this all the time?”  
“Unfortunately, pretty much.”  
Barry scowls at Clark and Hal checks his watch. As he raises his wrist, Bruce catches sight of an odd emerald colored ring on a finger, with something in the middle shaped sort of like a wrapped piece of candy. “Oh jeez. We’ve really got to go.” he says with a poke on Barry’s arm. “Catch you guys later.”  
“Nice meeting you Bruce!” Barry calls over his shoulder as they run down the hallway.  
Clark smiles at the look on Bruce’s face. “Trust me, they’re actually not nearly as annoying as they seem.” he pauses. “Well, Barry isn’t anyway.” He stops at a door. “Period one.”

~ o ~ o ~

“This isn’t so much a diluted love story than a story about stupid teenagers who mistake love for sex. People seem to think it’s romantic because it’s written in in an overly complicated, sonnet styled iambic pentameter, or because it’s old, or even because they commit suicide for each other in the end, which is ludicrous, by the way. They are mistaken. Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven has more aspects of true romance or Sophocles’s works.” Bruce lectures lazily.  
Mr. Hawkins oogles for a moment before nodding slowly. “That’s a very involved opinion, Bruce.”  
He simply nods. People are turning their heads and staring at him, but honestly, he’s used to it. A girl manages to catch his eye for a moment, and he gets a glimpse of purple eyes and black hair before she turns. He thinks little of it, other than that she must be pretty desperate if she’s wearing color contacts.  
Mr. Hawkins starts telling the homework, and a dark-skinned kid turns from his side. “Are you like a genius or something?”  
Bruce looks at him disinterestedly. “Maybe. Romeo and Juliet is ninth grade reading, though.”  
It seems to be an acceptable enough answer, because he nods and puts out his hand. “John Stewart. They only put me in AP because the academic period is the only period that they have ROTC.”  
Bruce automatically glances at his hand, and sure enough, he has the same ring. “Is that ring an ROTC souvenir? You’re the second person in ROTC I’ve met with that ring.”  
John twists the ring around his finger. “Yeah. We call ourselves the Green Lanterns.” he chuckles. “It was Hal Jordan’s idea, if you know who he is.” Bruce nods. “It’s a motivation thing. Green for willpower. I don’t know, it was just a joke at first, but then Guy Gardner got us actual rings, and it kind of started to mean something. It’s me, Hal, Guy, Katma, Kilowog, and a few others.”  
Bruce ‘hm’s and turns back to writing down the rest of his homework. 

~ o ~ o ~

The time between periods, as Clark tells him, is called passing time. During passing time, crowds flood the hallways in noisy herds and take out their phones and walk blindly, and Bruce hates it.  
He’s sure John Stewart hates it more though, because a few seconds after he steps out of the room a shapely girl with waves of lavish red hair and narrow, almond shaped eyes that remind him of a hawk slaps John across the face.  
Clark proceeds to quicken his pace and leave the two to their painfully loud arguing. “That’s Shayera Hol,” he says once they reach a safe distance. “She’s nice, but… she and John are complicated to say the least.”  
“Say no more,” Bruce says, pursing his lips.

~ o ~ o ~

Clark has a lot of bad habits.  
Bruce learns quickly that when he talks animatedly, he gestures and his motions go on a rampage until he hits someone, apologizes immensely, and restarts the cycle.  
The worst habit has to be the touching, though. So far he’s tried to put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder twice, and Bruce practically growled the second time.  
He and Bruce have the second lunch period together as well, and Clark almost tries to pull Bruce along by the wrist, but Bruce saw and escaped the position in time. Lunch is in between four AM periods and two PM periods. The cafeteria is loud and crowded, and a drab grey color. Clark shows Bruce to his lunch table to meet the bigger group of his friends. Barry and Hal are there arguing about something, but they stop for a moment and give him a wave, along with John. Shayera and John are cozied next to each other, so Bruce figures they’re rectified the situation. A new girl is talking with Barry, and there’s a new boy too. Before Clark can introduce them though, he sees a familiar face, along with a few unfamiliar ones crowded around the familiar one.  
“Brucie! Fancy meeting you here. What are you doing in public school?”  
Bruce rolls his eyes. “ I could ask you the same question Ollie. By the way, is that a porcupine on your chin?”  
Oliver Queen’s hand raises to his face, taken by surprise at first, and then his expression hardens. “It’s called a beard; obviously it’s better than anything you have.” he throws back.  
“No, it’s called stubble, and it’s ridiculous. I’ll keep my face clear, thanks.” Bruce finishes, turning away.  
Clark looks between them with an astonished face. “You two know each other?”  
Bruce’s eyes flash to Oliver and he gives him a curt shake of his head. Oliver grins cockily, purposefully ignoring him, and says, “Sure. The Waynes and the Queens run in the same, rich, industry dominating circles.” and Bruce glares. The table gets quieter.  
“You’re Bruce Wayne?” Barry exclaims, turning from the girl. “I know you!” Bruce gives him a cold look before opening his lunch box.  
“Why does it matter?” He says apathetically.  
Hal’s eyebrows raise. “‘Cause you’re worth like, billions of dollars, and you’re pretty much famous.”  
“So is he. No difference.” Bruce says, jerking a thumb towards Oliver. Oliver sticks his tongue out at him, but no one speaks. The air is thick- everyone knows there is a difference, and what the difference is, but nobody says a word.  
Clark immediately fills the awkward silence. “Bruce, this is Diana Prince and J’onn J’onzz.”  
“Hi,” Diana smiles warmly, and her bright eyes catch Bruce’s because they sparkle as she smiles. Her hair is dark and voluminous, and when she twists a finger around a lock of hair Bruce realizes he might be staring too intensely. He turns his gaze to J’onn- he’s tall and broad shouldered, with a dusky complexion and a stoic expression.  
Clark elbows him lightly and Bruce glares but through gritted teeth says, “Nice to meet you.”  
He can see Diana give Clark a funny look from the corner of his eye, but J’onn reacts in no way other than a nod at his words. Slowly conversation starts to resume again- it turns out Hal and Barry are debating over the best Lord of the Rings character in theme of the upcoming Hobbit film. Bruce eavesdrops a bit as he takes a small bite out of his sushi. Barry’s on a blonde elf, Legolas’s side, because “the blondes have to stick together”, and Hal was on a human, Aragorn, because “he got all the girls”. It seems as Barry is winning though- Oliver was quick to join on his side and Diana was quick to go against Hal’s side. While it was pointless, it was… different, to be invited to a table full of people who didn’t just talk about their new beach houses or pool installments. To hear a fun sort of bantering rather than who has the best mansion or the most money.  
Bruce might like it.

Last period is gym, which Clark stresses is an absolute blessing, because they didn’t have to worry about being sweaty and gross during the day. He especially has is thankful, because he does weight lifting after school, so he doesn’t have to change.  
“You’ll have to choose a locker to put your stuff in. There are some open ones around.” Clark explains, opening the boy’s locker room door. Bruce’s nose crinkles on impact; it smells oddly of a mixture between dirty socks and cologne.  
“It is vile in here.” He says. Boys are changing all over with no decency and Bruce has to look away before he actually gets sick. “I’m changing in the bathroom.” He pivots before Clark can protest and leaves him behind in the locker room.  
The actual locker room is big, with thick windowless door a hallway leading to different entrances for the different gyms, a bathroom, and the changing area. They passed the bathroom on the way to the changing area, so he knows exactly where it is. Cautiously, he opens the door- the coast is clear except for a ginger washing his hands.  
Bruce trudges past and tries to ignore him but he speaks, so he’s forced to acknowledge him. “Bruce Wayne, right?” He sighs- this had to happen sometime.  
He affirmatively grunts, continuing to the stall, but the guy turned around, drying his hands. “Lex Luthor. My father’s the owner of LexCorp.” He says in a snide-like voice. “He’s done some business deals with Wayne Enterprises.”  
“Great. I kind of have to change now.” Bruce says rather dully, pushing the stall door in. Lex’s eyebrows scrunched at his lack of tone, and Bruce just closes it. After a few seconds he can hear the sound of the bathroom door shutting, and he sighs. Peace at last.

~ o ~ o ~

“That’s Lois.” Clark whispers, pointing to a girl with a black ponytail with her back towards them. They’re in the gymnasium now, waiting for everyone to finish changing. The girls are particularly slow, which Bruce remembers from his last non-all boys school.  
He’s surprised when she turns to speak to a blonde girl, and her purple contacts catch the light. She’s in their English class. “Why does she wear contacts? And why are you whispering?”  
Clark shrugs. “She likes the color purple.” He completely ignores the second question, which was expected.  
Lois catches Bruce and Clark staring at her, and Clark’s eyes immediately dart away, but Bruce holds eye contact. She tentatively smiles and waves, and Bruce feels himself raising his hand back to her.  
“EVERYONE LISTEN UP!” The gym teacher bellows. Bruce looks his way for the first time; his hair is almost completely white and he’s wearing a rather repulsive mixture of orange and black. The eyepatch on his left eye sticks out the most though. The class goes silent almost immediately after the words are spoken. “Today we’re playing Capture The Flag.” His eye darts around the class menacingly. “Usual rules. If you get touched by a member of the other team on their side, you’re out. A team member can get you back in the game if they reach the jail without getting tapped themselves. The area 5 feet surrounding the flag’s original spot is safe for the opposite side. The objective is to get the other team’s flag. Think you can handle that Neanderthals?”  
Most nod, but Bruce simply bites back a snappy response. “Team captains are Luthor and… Quinn.” Luthor high fives a boy standing near him with bright, white framed reflective sunglasses. A blonde girl with one pigtail’s tips dyed red and another’s dyed black squeals, presumably “Quinn”. He almost takes pity on her; she’s obviously outmatched.  
The two stand side by side in front of the class, and Luthor declares, ”I’ll start.” His eyes rake over every person in the room, and they pause at Clark. He’s surprised to see Clark glaring back- Bruce wasn’t sure Clark could glare. “Wayne.” he says confidently, effectively surprising Bruce. He warily walks up behind Luthor to form a line.  
“Ivy!” Quinn calls cheerily, effectively creeping Bruce out. Honestly. A cherry-haired girl with chilling green eyes followed his suit, and many boy's eyes followed her.  
They go on quickly- Lex’s team consists of himself, Bruce, Lois, Lenny, Mikey, Dinah, and a few others. Ivy, Diego, Matt, Victor, Clark and some others are on Quinn’s team. The gym teacher, Wilson apparently, blows a shrill whistle to start the game.  
“Snart and Lane, you’re on offense.” he says, pointing to Lenny, who turns out to be the guy with the white sunglasses. “Same with me and you, Wayne. Lance and Carter, you’re on defense.” Dinah gives Luthor a look but says nothing, and Mikey moves next to her grinning. He opens his mouth to say something, but she puts a hand up, and it almost makes Bruce forget his annoyance at Luthor for trying to boss him around.  
Some people are daring to touch their toe over the line, but no one steps over. Diego, a huge dude with a black and white beanie, makes the first real move. He dives over the line and runs to the left, and Matt, a spindly kid with tangled brown hair runs to the right. They’re disorganized and not paying attention to each other, so Mikey and Dinah catch them almost immediately. Lenny takes the opportunity to go, and Lois nods at him, sticking close.  
Lenny’s agile, ducking under Victor’s touch on the other side. He’s fast enough to outrun people who are following him. Lois follows his lead, and it works until Clark and Ivy corner him. Clark reaches out and tags Lenny, and Lois abruptly stops for a split second.  
She regains her bearings and runs around Clark, just a step away from the circle around the flag. The team watches stiffly. Ivy spins around, tagging her just as her front foot steps in the circle.  
“FWEETT!” Wilson blows his shrill whistle. “LANE, YOU’RE OUT!” Bruce glares- does this guy understand the word quiet?  
Lois freezes in her spot. “I’m in the circle!” she protests daringly. Clark looks uncomfortable. Bruce guesses he wants to stick up for Lois, but that would be traitorous to his team.  
“You’re not completely in the circle! That means OUT!” He yells.  
Bruce crosses his arms. Half of him just didn’t like the teacher, and the other half… he didn’t quite know why he wanted to stick up for Lois, but he did. “You never said that you had to be completely in the circle.”  
Wilson turns on him. “Well I’m saying it now! And I’d do what you’re told, Miss Lane, or you and Mr. Wayne will sit out.”  
Lois glances at Bruce and then defeatedly walks to the jail to join Lenny, and Bruce just manages to keep himself quiet before Wilson backs out of the game and lets everyone play again.  
He’s distracted slightly now, and there aren’t a lot of offense members left. He’ll have to make a move soon, but it’s difficult to find an opening. Ivy resides just outside of the flag circle, “babysitting” it, and Harley stands near her towards the jail. His best move is probably get Lenny or Lois out of the jail, so they have more people.  
“Look out!” Dinah calls, and Bruce snaps out of thought. Someone’s heading towards him, and he swiftly tags them before he even registers that it’s Clark. Clark looks surprised. Luthor looks triumphant.  
He opens his mouth to congratulate Bruce when Luthor sees his gaze at the jail and hisses, “No, we need to worry about the flag. They got themselves there.”  
“They got the closest to the flag, and we need people to get to the flag.” Bruce says cooly. He doesn’t wait for Luthor to approve.  
A few people try to catch Bruce but he’s careful, not letting anyone within two feet of him. Someone tries to jab from behind, but Bruce lunges forward just in time. Lois’s hand catches his extended one, and they make brief eye contact. Bruce pulls her behind Harley and they both grab for the flag, but Ivy cuts them off.  
Lois tears her hand away from his to back away from Ivy’s hand, and Bruce takes the moment to run through the circle and bolt to safety. Once over the line, he looks behind his shoulder- Lois is a few steps behind him. “Thanks.” she says breathlessly.  
Bruce nods as she comes over the line. Luthor strides up, his face slightly red. “I told you-”  
“Hey, where’s the flag?” Harley exclaims from the other side of the room. Luthor stops, confused.  
Bruce unrolls it from his clenched hand casually. “Can we get changed now?”

~ o ~ o ~

“Next time I want you on my team.” Clark declares for about the fifth time.  
Bruce sighs. “Clark, I’m not deaf. I heard you the first time, and the four times after that. Plus Wilson’s probably not going to let either of us pick the teams because he seems to be a Grade A douche.”  
Clark laughs, which is weird, because he wasn’t trying to be funny.  
The final bell has just rung, and Bruce is glad to be out of school. Gym was torture, but the rest of the day was good enough for him to not un-enroll.  
They exit the building and Clark zips up his jacket. “It’s chilly out here.” Bruce shrugs. It is, but the cold doesn’t bother him so much as extended exposure to the cold. “Do you need a ride? I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind.”  
Bruce shakes his head and cranes his neck to find the limo parked in the curve of the school entrance. “Alfred’s already here.” He can already see the questioning look on Clark’s face, so he fills him in. “My butler.”  
“You really are rich!” Clark says, and Bruce nods.  
“Pretty much.”  
Clark begins walking towards his parents’ cars. “See you tomorrow Bruce!”  
Bruce gives him a curt wave and turns around.  
“This is the only spot long enough for limos to park, as you’ve probably already guessed.”  
Bruce grits his teeth. “Piss off Oliver.”  
Oliver doesn’t move but doesn’t cheekily grin either. He hesitates. “Why didn’t you want anyone to know who you really are at lunch today? It’s not like they wouldn’t have found out anyway.”  
Bruce frowns and debates if he should just ignore him and walk away or not, but Oliver’s not the ignore-it-and-it’ll-go-away type. He’s the ignore-it-and-it’ll-only-get-louder type. “Maybe I don’t want to absorb all the sympathy like you love to do. Tell me, how many times have you told the story about surviving on the island?”  
He can tell he’s hit a sore spot because of the way Oliver physically winces and grimaces. Bruce doesn’t feel bad- he had it coming. Bruce, along with everyone in the nation, heard about Oliver Queen’s supposed death for 15 months after a yacht crash, and then his miraculous return having been found on a deserted island. They met both before and after the 15 months. Either Oliver was really good at pretending, or he didn’t change a bit. “About as many times as you’ve told the story about how your parents died.” Oliver says after a pause.  
Whoever’s picking up Oliver honks their horn. “We could be friends, you know.” he says slowly.  
Bruce opens the front passenger seat to his limo. “Probably not.” he says, and Oliver has to smile at that.


End file.
